Time-Turner
by FansieFace
Summary: What if Hermione went to NYC and had a time-turner accident? Just a brain fart, and a crossover (my first), but it's mostly Newsies so I'm posting it here. Set in the summer after the third Harry Potter book, but then in 1899.
1. Chapter 1

**So this was a little brain fart I had. One of those "what if?" moments, ya know? So review if you want it to continue, 'cause otherwise, I don't know, I'll just stop. But I think it could be fun. Probably at least one more chapter, even without reviews, but otherwise...so yeah. What if?**

"Hermione! We need to get going!"

"Coming Mum!" Hermione glanced once more around her room, satisfied that it was organized for when she came back from New York with her parents. The trip had been last minute, but Hermione was excited. She tugged the long chain around her neck, a sly smile around her mouth. With the time-turner, she'd be able to see everything, no problem. This was going to be a good trip.

Hermione was glad when the plane finally touched down in New York City. She had been on plenty of long flights before on trips with her parents, but this one had seemed the longest so far. She was eager to get to the hotel and use the time turner. She wanted to see Beauty and the Beast on broadway, and she planned to leave from her room using the time-turner. She and her parents hailed a cab, and she spent the twenty minute ride holding on for dear life as the driver wove in and out of traffic at a faster speed than seemed safe. They pulled up at a building that was clearly lovingly taken care of, but just as clearly very old. Green shutters framed the windows of the gray wooden nine story building, and a sign above the green door said "The Lodging House Hotel." A woman with curly brown hair was standing outside the hotel.

"Hello! My name is Katherine Kelly, and I'm one of the three co-owners of the Lodging House Hotel! Do you have a reservation?"

"Yes, under Granger. Two rooms, I believe?" Mr. Granger said. Miss Kelly looked down at a clipboard she was holding.

"Ah, yes. Top floor. Rooms 92 and 93, right across from each other. You can go up now, or rest in the common room, and look at the mini-museum we have." Miss Kelly smiled at them as they walked inside. Hermione looked into the common room, seeing mismatched chairs and an old, tattered couch and newspapers lining the wall, framed in a line along the perimeter of the room. Curious, she walked inside and looked closer. The frames held pictures of a group of young boys and girls, standing in a group with their fists raised and yellowed, fading newspaper articles. The articles had headlines such as "Modern Day David and Goliath" and were dated 1899, often topped with similar pictures of the same group of children. Looking closely at one article that looked to have been on the front page above the fold, she saw yet another picture, but this one looked like the kids were feeling something more sure of themselves. They looked confident, in control, with their fist raised high in a show of defiance, even though they were dressed in rags, and several had bruises visible even in the faded photograph. One boy had a crutch, even. The article was headlined "Newsies Stop the World!" and was written by K. Plummer. It was compelling, talking of a "children's crusade" of a group of young children fighting for their rights. Hermione turned at the feeling of a hand on her shoulder, seeing a man with an easy, wide grin and sandy, reddish blond hair.

"Found the main article, huh? My name is James Morris, by the way. One of the three co-owners of this hotel. You met Katherine already, then there's me and Michael Jacobs, the one over there by the couch." Mr. Morris pointed to a man with dark hair. "The hotel has been passed through our families since the 1920's, when it was started by three of the newsboys from the strike. Jack Kelly, Matthew "Crutchie" Morris and Davey Jacobs. Our ancestors, the co-owners. That one is Jack," He said, pointing to a boy in the front with a determined face. "He's Katherine's ancestor. He later married the author of this article, Katherine Plummer, who became the first Katherine Kelly. Then there's Crutchie, as he's called. He's my Great-times-a-thousand Grandfather." He was pointing to the boy with the crutch. "And finally. the great Davey Jacobs. Michael's great-times-a-thousand grandfather. He was thought to have been the brains behind the strike." The boy had a large nose and dark hair. "And from drawings left by Jack Kelly, we know the names of some of the others, and nicknames. Davey was sometimes called the Mouth, then there's Albert, Henry, Elmer, JoJo, Sniper, Race, Romeo, Buttons, Spot, and those are just the ones I can name off the top of my head from this picture. Interesting history, right?" He took his hand off her shoulder and walked away at the sound of a bell from the lobby. Hermione kept staring at the picture, stopping at one face, one of the girls. Sniper, she thought. She had braids in her hair and a buck-toothed grin. A grin very similar to Hermione's own. _Strange,_ she thought. _That girl looks like me._ But as her parents called her to her room, she stopped thinking about the newsgirl, excited for the possibilities that lay ahead of her on this trip with the time-turner.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione was sitting on her bed when it happened. It was warm and stuffy, so she had opened her window. While she was turning back time to the morning, the shutter banged in a sudden blast of wind. She jumped, flicking the time-turner harder than was good, dropping it, it shot across the bed. The wind caught the hourglass, spinning it faster and faster. She fumbled for, but it was too late. Time was going backwards, the comfy antiques getting newer and newer, then disappearing, the walls fading out, turning into long dormitories. The beds turned into bunks, the bathroom turned into a washroom. The time-turner finally slowed down, the years slowing into days, figures of boys walking in and out then stopped in the dark.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXxxxxxx**

"Gaheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!" Specs awoke to Romeo's yell.

"Nightmare Rome?" He called sleepily down to the boy below him.

"NO! DERE'S A GOIL IN MY BED!" Romeo screamed.

"Romeo, shut ya trap about ya stupid dreams an' go ta sleep!" Race said from his bunk. Several other boys murmured their agreements.

"Sorry! I just...it was an...I...sorry!" Most of the boys woke up more at the unfamiliar, feminine, and British voice.

"Uh...who is ya an' what is ya doin' in Romeo's bed?" Race spoke up. Jack burst through the unlocked window from the roof.

"Who yelled? Is someone hurt?"

"Nah, Jack. Romeo jist woke up with a strange person on his bed. A goil. An' she's from London. No big deal, right? Wrong! HOW THE HECK DID SHE GIT IN HERE! SHE'S A WEIRDO!" Albert was always stressed when someone woke him up, for any reason.

"A...wait, what?"

"I was jist sleepin' an' den suddenly dis goil was jist here on top of me an' she jist appeared an' so I yelled an' dey woke up an' she's not my goil, really she ain't!" Romeo burst out. Somebody finally realized they were having this conversation in the dark and lit a candle. The room brightened, and everybody could see the girl with bushy brown hair standing at the foot of Romeo's bed.

" So...uh...goil. How'd ya git in here?" Jack asked, looking slightly worried by the thought that some random girl could just walk in with nobody noticing.

"I've been on the run for a few months, at least, and this place seemed warm, and there was food in the kitchen, so I figured I would disguise myself as a boy and sneak in and hope nobody would notice. I thought this bed was empty, but apparently not." Jack nodded, seeming to believe this story. Many of the newsies had been runaways before they arrived at the lodging house.

"How long ya been on da run? An' why is ya, who is clearly from London, in da grand ole' US of A?"

"My parents and I came here on a trip, and I ran away. I don't know how long it's been, only that I ran in the summer and survived the winter." Inwardly, Hermione cringed. The boys looked sympathetic to her lie, and the lie was getting more and more complex. How could she keep this up?

"Well, it's March now, so you'se been on da run for at least half a year, probably more. You'se ran away da summer of 1898, right, not some other year an' you'se been on da streets a long time?" Jack asked. Hermione just nodded.

"Well den, guess we'se gotta do our duty an' take care of ya, but you'se gotta work for rent. A penny a day, seven a week, ya know, simple ar-eeth-ma-tick. You'se is gonna hafta sell papes with us."

"Aww, Jack! A goil? Sellin'? Dat ain't no fun! She's gonna be like a muddah, an' make us wash, an' clean, an' not drink, an'-"

"Tommy-boy, dat's enough. She needs our help." several boys grumbled, but some seemed nice enough. Romeo was calling out excitedly.

"I found her! An' she gits ta stay! An' I found her! An' she's stayin'! An' I found-"

"Romeo, shut ya trap. It's a goil. An' it's night. An' I want ta sleep. So can we'se deal with dis in da mornin'? Or if not, can you'se take her somewheres else so _I'se_ can sleep?" Race complained. Jack ran a hand through his already tussled hair.

"Fine. Goil...uh, ya got a name?"

"Hermione."

"Uh...nah. You'se need a newsie name, since dat one's so bad."

"Did you just insult my name?"

"Yes."

"Git used ta his pokin' fun. It's what he does best." This came from a boy that had just swung through the window. He was holding a stick...no, a crutch. The boy smiled encouragingly. Jack sent a mock glare in the direction of the boy.

"Shut it, Crutchie." The boy just laughed. Jack shook his head. "Well, we'se will decide a name for ya later. For now, git ta sleep so Race don't murder us all...dere's an open bed over dere." Jack pointed to the top of a bunk near the end of the long room. Hermione nodded and headed over there. _Looks like I'm stuck here for now. I can't just disappear, they'll all freak out. And I can't tell them I'm a witch. So I'm stuck in...1899. March. Wait...1899! The strike! I can live history!_ Hermione was not thinking rationally as she slipped into the bunk, drifting off to sleep as the candle was blown out. _I really shouldn't feel this safe...I mean, I'm stuck in 1899 with a bunch of boys who I don't know, and yet I feel...safe. Peculiar. _

**Not the best explanation for the whole time turner thing...but I guess it worked. Review for more chapters.**


	3. Chapter 3

When Hermione awoke in the morning, it wasn't to light streaming in through blinds. It was to shouts from the rooftop and the grumbles of boys stumbling about in pre-dawn darkness trying to find shirts and caps and suspenders. She yawned and stretched and sat up, and suddenly every eye was on her as a candle was lit.

"I convinced myself it was a dream." Race muttered.

"I knew it was real! She was on my bed!" Romeo replied.

"She's a WEIRDO!"

"How'd nobody notice her jist walk on in?"

"We was sleepin', JoJo! DUH!" As the boys chattered on, the boy with brown hair swung in through the window, turning around to help the boy with the crutch in behind him.

"So she ain't a dream, huh?" He said, pulling a cap over his messy hair.

"Yes she is Jacky! She's jist a dream we'se kin all see when we'se awake!"

"Race, watch da lip. We all know you'se is tired."

"Yeah, Jack." Race slouched off, not saying anything until he passed the boy who kept calling Hermione a weirdo, who had an unlit cigar in his hand.

"ALBERT! Dat's my cigar!"

"You'll steal annudah!"

"GIVE IT!"

"No!" They began to chase eachother around as the other boys totally ignored them, as if it was perfectly normal. Hermione felt awkward as everyone just stood there and stared at her.

"Um...hello?"

"Heya! I'm Romeo! You'se was on my bed!"

"Rome, calm down! You'se is scarin' her!"

"I ain't!"

"You is!"

"I ain't!"

"AY! BOYS! Calm down! We needs ta decide what we'se gonna do wid her, not argue over if she's scared or not! Uh...is ya scared? 'Cause if ya is we'se kin...uh...help?"

"No. I'm not scared. I would appreciate it if you would talk to me instead of about me, but I'm not scared."

"Okay, good."

"She's sellin', right, Jack?"

"If she wants ta stay here, she is."

"I would like to stay, yes."

"Den yes, Romeo, she's sellin'."

"YAY!"

"But she needs a cap, an' she's dressed in...what is dat?" Hermione looked down at her clothes, jeans and a tee-shirt from 1994. Then she looked at the pants and shirts the boys were wearing or were sleepily trying to get on.

"Um...I dunno...just...they...ah…"

"Well whatever it is, ya can't go sellin' in 'em! Hang on a minute!" Jack ran into the hallway outside the long dorm room. "AY! KLOPPY! YA GOT A GOT ANY EXTRA CLOTHES? WE'SE GOT A NEWB LAST NIGHT!"

"WHAT SORTA SIZE?" An old, but certainly not feeble voice came back up the stairs.

"Rome, what size?"

"Ah...close ta...Specs, I guess. Or maybe...she's kinda in between Specs an' me."

"So like Race?"

"Uh...yeah! Like Race!"

"LIKE RACE'S SIZE, KLOPPY!"

"I'LL SEE WHAT I GOT! SEND SOMEBODY DOWN TA GET THE CLOTHES!"

"Rome?"

"Sure!" Romeo darted for the door, only to be hit by Albert trying to escape Race with the cigar still in his hand. "OOF! AL! What was dat for?" Race finally caught up to Albert because of the diversion. He snatched the cigar out of Albert's hand.

"HA! MINE!" He stuck it in his mouth. "An' don't steal it no more, Al!" Hermione looked at the other boys as quiet groans and laughs came from around the room. She saw money changing hands, a penny here, a nickel there. She shook her head at the poorly concealed gambling. This could be an interesting time, staying with these boys in 1899.


End file.
